Sugar on Top
by writerlester
Summary: When baking prodigy Phil Lester finally manages to enter the prestigious culinary school of his dreams, he doesn't account for the fact that one very famous, very rich, and very pretty heir named Dan Howell will become his culinary rival. AU.
1. Chapter 1

It had been such an exciting day, and the eight-year-old boy skipping along the road couldn't even consider the chance that it could get any better. His mother was walking slowly behind him, too tired from a day of shopping to keep up with her hyperactive child. She was speaking to the boy's father on her phone, every so often calling out to keep him from straying too far.

But the boy hardly paid his mother any mind; after all, there were dozens of shops lined in front of him, and to a child that is much more interesting. He darted ahead, eyeing a toy store's tempting window when he smelled something heavenly.

Forgetting about his mother entirely, the small boy raced ahead to the store where he'd smelled that aroma: a high-class, beautifully decorated bakery. Even at such a tender age, the child knew this bakery chain, as everyone in town bought from here. Besides, it was where his mother bought cake on special occasions, and who didn't enjoy cake?

Disregarding the consequences and completely entranced by the sheer grandeur of the place, the young boy stepped inside. Immediately overcome with the smell, he stopped and stared with wide, enraptured eyes at the choices before him. Not only cake, but pies, breads, cookies, pastries, muffins, scones, brownies, and so much more.

He moved to touch an ornate display with a perfectly decorated platter of cookies inside when he heard a gentle laugh behind the counter.

The child immediately snatched his hand away in fear of being reprimanded. He backed away guiltily.

But the tall man wearing a chef hat behind the counter was smiling, and his twinkling brown eyes and amicable grin was enough to put any child's mind at ease. Immediately the boy shuffled over, curious as to what this magical place had in store.

The man was kneading dough to make bread. He smiled as the boy drew nearer. "Hello, lad. Are you by yourself?"

"My mum's coming," the boy murmured, turning slightly pink as he realized he'd left his parent behind. He was about to go find her when the baker continued in a warm tone.

"Well, that's good. What brings you to my bakery?"

The boy shifted from foot to foot. "...the smell."

Instead of looking at him oddly like he'd expected, the friendly man laughed in agreement. "It does smell good in here, doesn't it? That's what I like about bakeries. They make people feel good."

The boy nodded eagerly, sensing a kindred spirit. "I like making people feel happy!"

"Well, then why don't you open your own bakery someday?" the man winked, his eyes alight. "That's the purpose of sweet food. To make others happy. But a bakery's more than food, of course."

The boy tilted his head, confused. "How?"

"Well, if you want a real bakery, it's gotta have a welcoming, happy atmosphere," the man explained. "A bakery is a place to give people a moment of sweetness in their busy lives. At least, that's my policy. Besides, there's nothing better than seeing people enjoy your food."

Just at that moment, the boy's mother hurried inside, slightly frazzled. "There you are! I told you not to run ahead! I'm sorry if he's been bothering you, sir."

"Of course not. We were just talking about bakeries," the man told her, and she seemed to relax slightly.

The boy tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Mum, I want my own bakery!"

"Well, honey, we'll see," she told him, starting to walk out. The boy jogged to catch up, when the man spoke again.

"Hope to see you two around here again. It was nice to meet you, little man," he chuckled.

The boy turned around, beaming, feeling as though he'd made a new friend. "My name is Phil!"

The man smiled. "Good luck with your bakery, Phil."

Phil Lester sat outside the gates, jiggling his leg up and down erratically. His stomach was folding into knots and he wondered if he'd pass out.

Teenagers his age walked by into the open gates, chatting and smiling. These were all highly skilled teens, who were all great at baking and had to pass a series of extremely difficult tests to gain access to this prestigious culinary school.

The same school Phil was currently trying to enter.

The problem? Money. Money was always the problem. He was supposed to meet with the financial department in thirty minutes to discuss whether or not he'd received the scholarship he'd applied for. He was up against some extremely talented peers; not to mention the fact that if he didn't receive the scholarship it was unlikely he'd attend the school of his dreams.

Grandview Academy. Phil had dreamt of this place for years. A place where aspiring chefs around the world could meet and compete for a chance to make their skills known to everyone. If he could graduate from here, surely, surely he could open his own bakery with some success.

Phil stood, brushing lint off of his best clothes, a blue button-up and black dress pants. Running his fingers nervously through his messy hair, he stepped through the gates of Grandview Academy.

As he walked, he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Not only were these teens skilled, they were also very, very rich. This place was obviously expensive to attend. Phil gawked openly at the shining marble staircases and velvet draperies over windows. The place had fountains everywhere and flower gardens pristinely manicured. The place oozed luxury, something Phil was not very used to.

He shouldered his bag. Despite his tall height, standing already at 6'2" at only eighteen, people didn't pay him too much attention. It was move-in week, and people were more focused on filling the dormitories than random boys walking around.

It also helped that a crowd of people were gathered around a car pulling up to the gates. Phil paused to look, his curiosity too much to ignore. A bodyguard alighted from the vehicle and opened the door for a boy Phil's age. He wore sunglasses and had brown hair, but that's all Phil could see over the mob of people. It was like paparazzi. This guy must've been a big deal.

Phil shook his head and kept going. It really shouldn't be a surprise; after all, very wealthy families sent their children here. Some were the children of famous people. Everyone could be a little starstruck.

He found his way to the finance department and after checking in, sat down to wait. He felt calmer here, because it was mostly empty and quiet. Not many of those rich kids outside needed to even know this department existed.

A twinge of jealousy stung Phil's chest. None of those rich kids had ever had a part-time job, much less three, and from the age of ten. It started with delivering papers, cleaning houses, and moving up from there. All for the sole purpose of entering this school. His fate rested with this meeting.

When the lady called Phil into her office, she got straight to the point. "Mr. Lester, we've never seen a student quite like you before."

He flushed, but before he could reply, she continued. "We'd be honored to have you study here at Grandview. We're offering you a full scholarship."

Phil's mouth hung open. You could've knocked him over with a feather. "What?"

"A full scholarship," she repeated, pulling out a file. "Your written test results were extraordinary. Full marks. Not to mention the practical exam. Your cupcakes were the highlight of the judge's meal. You're a prodigy, the finest we've had since Richard Howell, if I may say."

"Howell? As in, Howell's Delights bakery Howell?" Phil squeaked.

"The one and the same. I believe Chef Howell's son is enrolling this year, as well." The lady peered at him. "Do you need some water, Mr. Lester?"

"No-no, I'm fine," Phil replied, willing himself to breathe. "So a full scholarship?"

"Yes. We can work out details and paperwork later, but for now, I suggest moving in," she told him. "You should have received your living quarters instructions in the mail."

"I did-I've got them."

"Excellent. I wish you a successful time here at Grandview Academy, Mr. Lester."

Phil thanked her and left, still feeling like all the air had been vacuumed out of his lungs. Wordlessly, he pulled out his cell phone to call his mother. "Mum," he croaked. "I've got a full scholarship."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Dan's brows knit together in annoyance as he surveyed the academy. It was pretty difficult to see, however, over the crowd of people that had gathered around the gates to welcome him.

His bodyguard moved people back, and Dan could hear his bags being taken care of by attendants. Flicking his eyes around he waved carelessly at his peers, wondering where his dorm was.

A flushed girl stood waiting for him outside the boys' dorm, her school uniform on despite the fact school didn't start for a few more days. "Daniel Howell?" she squawked, hurriedly shuffling the papers in front of her. "I'm the head of the school welcoming committee, and I'm here to show you to your dorm room. I-I'm-"

"Great," Dan replied shortly, motioning to his bodyguard, Drake. "We're over here, Drake. Room's in here."

Dan followed the flustered girl inside, and boys moving in stopped in their tracks to openly stare at him as he walked past. A twinge of annoyance kept growing in Dan's belly, but he did his best to stamp it down as the girl stopped. "H-here's your room, sir."

Sir? Dan didn't question it. He waited as Drake went in first, then followed. It was a typical academy dorm room for rich kids. Huge, draped beds, chests, desks, closets, and even two bathrooms. The window had linen curtains and a window seat. Dan nodded. A bit small, but it'll do.

Attendants began to file in, bringing Dan's luggage. "Your roommate hasn't arrived yet," the girl called into the room, her voice more high-pitched. "He'll probably arrive sometime today."

"Thanks," Dan dismissed her, and after leaning against the doorframe uncertainly for a few more moments, she left.

The attendants finished putting his things on one side of the room, and Dan dismissed them with a nod. Drake was the last to leave, reporting to Dan that his safety would be left up to the academy's security. Dan thanked him as he left.

After the door was closed, Dan flopped onto his bed. "This academy's got kids worth millions of dollars here," he muttered. "The security isn't what I'm worried about."

He rolled over and stared out the window. The girls' dorm was located across the courtyard. Girls and boys alike were milling around the courtyard, chatting. The crowd from his arrival had dispersed, no doubt headed around to deliver the news that he was here.

Dan smiled. He liked attention, but didn't care for personal attachments. So long as people admired him from afar, he was fine with that. After all, he didn't really care about this school, anyway. He was just here at his mother's request.

Baking? Why baking? He'd never had an interest in it. Of course, he'd never had to bake before, but how hard could it be? He hadn't even taken the entrance exams. Of course, he thought with a snort, most of those rich kids down there failed the exams. Money's the only way anyone gets into this school. Those tests are impossible.

The door opening caught his attention. A boy entered, with shaggy brown hair and mischievous eyes. "So, Pretty Boy's my roommate, huh?" was the only greeting Dan got as the boy's attendants started bringing some bags inside.

Dan stood. "I know, I'm irresistible."

The boy laughed, extending a hand. "Name's Chris Kendall. Of course, I already know your name."

Dan shook his hand, studying his new roommate. "Pleasure."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it is."

Dan couldn't help it-he cracked a smile. "For most people, it is."

Chris seemed to mull this over. "I'll come to my own conclusions, Pretty Boy. You caused quite the stir when you arrived. People were talking about you the minute I stepped on campus."

He spread his arms mockingly. "Of course. I'm Dan Howell, after all."

Chris tried to feign indifference, but Dan already knew-Chris had decided he liked him. Dan liked Chris, too. There was something brutally honest and natural about the guy.

Chris's attendants had left by this point, and he motioned to Dan's bags. "Haven't started unpacking yet?"

"What's the hurry?" Dan shrugged.

Chris walked over to the window and peered out. He made a face. "Did you know this school has a financial aid department?"

"Sounds more like a formality than anything else."

"Yeah, I guess. My mum made me apply for a scholarship, though. It's not like I need it, but whatever. I gotta find the department to see how that went."

Dan snorted. "They give out scholarships here?"

"Apparently."

Dan walked over to his bags, unzipping the first one. "Well, might as well start. I don't feel like finding a dining hall to go eat."

"Just make one of the workers bring you something," Chris suggested. "They do room service, you know."

Dan pulled the first thing out of his bag-a picture of his parents-and sighed. He felt like this was the start of a painful year at Grandview Academy.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 **Here's the first chapter! I'm really excited for this story and I hope you guys are, too!**

 **Let me know what you think! You can also check out my blog, with more stories on it at /writerlester.**

 **Bye now.**


	2. Chapter 2

Phil's hold tightened on his main suitcase as a guy wearing a clean white uniform anxiously tried to pry it from his grasp.

"Sir, we can handle your luggage for you," the man murmured, obviously uncomfortable, as he'd probably never had to explain this to someone before.

Phil set his jaw stubbornly. "I told you, I can handle it myself."

The attendant stared at him in disbelief. An emotion Phil couldn't quite place was churning around in his stomach; he felt angry, but also sympathetic and impatient.

 _Rich people._ The thought flitted through his mind before he could stop it, and he was surprised at how scornful it sounded. Phil had never had an attendant before, but he knew it was pretty common for rich people. Just glancing around at the crowd of kids moving in confirmed that. Attendants were everywhere.

But Phil didn't want one. These people moving in...they treated the attendants like they weren't even _there._ He guessed that was normal, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He planted his feet firmly. "It's not much. I'll carry it myself." _Just because I'm going to a rich school,_ Phil thought, _doesn't mean I have to act like a spoiled rich kid._

It was difficult for him to give these kids "the benefit of the doubt" when they took things like servants for granted. True, Phil was among some of the richest kids in the entire _world._ They had never known anything less than full luxury. It wasn't entirely their fault, but he was still going to hold them accountable for their behavior.

A small, rational part of Phil's brain told him he was just jealous. _That's not it,_ Phil argued. _They're acting like they're better than others just because they're rich. Surely that means I can hold them accountable?_

He turned and left the bewildered attendant, marching resolutely towards the boys' dorm. A girl was standing there, her cheeks red. She looked agitated about something. As she shifted from foot to foot, she caught sight of him.

"Are you Philip Lester?" she asked, courteous but brisk.

"Yes…?"

"Excellent. Please follow me, I'll show you to your room." The girl nodded at him and turned to walk inside.

"What, there's not a servant here to show me in?" Phil joked, hurrying to catch up.

He'd meant it as a joke, to lighten the mixed emotions inside of him at the moment, but the girl looked completely serious when she answered: "Usually they do, but a few students thought it would be fun to make a welcoming committee." She shrugged. "Commoners seem to like it. Seemed like a good hobby for opening week."

Phil was left dumbstruck. Did she just say the word _commoners?_ Did all rich kids say that? What had he gotten himself into?

She stopped in front of a door, checking her clipboard. "Here's your room. I believe your roommate has already arrived." She smiled for the first time. "Enjoy your year here at Grandview Academy."

"Thank you," Phil told her, and he meant it. She may have been rich, but she did have manners, and he was grateful. He wondered what she'd say if she knew he was a "commoner."

Surprise flickered across her face, but it was gone quickly. She nodded in goodbye and left him standing in front of his new room.

Facing the door, his nerves started in. _What if my roommate calls me a commoner? What if he's a stuck-up rich kid? Will he make my life hell?_

Cautiously, he opened the door. "Hello?"

A boy was standing on one of the beds, stringing fairy lights along the top of the wall. He turned to look at Phil. "Oh, hello! You must be my new roommate."

Phil nodded and stepped inside, bringing his luggage. Opened suitcases were strewn around one bed, as if someone had hastily shuffled through them in search of something.

"My name's PJ," the boy grunted as he finished his work. He hopped off the bed and offered his hand to Phil. "PJ Liguori."

Phil accepted it and shook his hand. "I'm Phil Lester. It's nice to meet you, PJ."

PJ smiled, and just like that, all of Phil's worries vanished. PJ had a very relaxed, open atmosphere around him; the air of a dreamer and a creator. _An artist's aura,_ his mum would've called it. Phil knew because she'd said the same thing about him.

"Are you hanging up fairy lights?" Phil asked, motioning to the strings still sitting on top of one of PJ's suitcases. "Do you want some help?"

PJ's eyes brightened. "Would you want some on your side, too?"

Phil grinned and reached down to pick up another string. "Let's get started then, shall we?"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Dan couldn't believe his eyes when he stepped out of his room for the first time in four days.

He'd managed to hole himself up pretty well, because despite the fact that he liked the attention he got, he was actually pretty introverted and knew if he went anywhere he'd get a crowd following along behind him.

However, he was not fully prepared for just how many people stopped just to stare at him as he walked by. Not to mention how many girls and boys hit on him just on his way to his first class.

Chris was with Dan, and he thought the whole thing was hilarious. "Tons of people keep asking me what it's like to be The Great Dan Howell's roommate," he cackled as yet another person gawked at them.

"What'd you tell them?"

Chris shrugged, his eyes glinting in that familiar mischievous way. "I just tell them you drool when you sleep and it's really entertaining."

Dan couldn't stifle a snort of laughter as the pair found their way to their first class: Developments in Nutrition. It was a basic, first-year course everyone had to take.

"Some guy named Professor Dawson teaches this," Chris muttered as they sat.

As the room filled, Dan's eyes roved over the room, taking in the scene. Each student wore the school's uniform. For boys: a white button-up, a navy blue jacket with a matching tie, and matching navy blue pants. The girls' uniform had a white jacket with a white shirt underneath and a navy blue tie. They wore pleated navy blue skirts with long white socks as well. The blue jackets was outlined in white, and vice versa. The school crest was sewn over the right side of the jacket.

The classroom was large and had big desks, suitable for any rich kid attending school. Everything was polished and the seats were comfortable.

Dan tapped on the desk. His own tie was loose around his neck, and he'd ditched the jacket, opting for just the button-up. He glanced at Chris. "At least the uniforms are pretty nice."

Chris shrugged, adjusting his tie. "I guess."

Dan's eyebrows lifted. "Did you ever get that scholarship?"

"Nah. They offered a full ride to some other guy so they dropped my scholarship."

Dan reeled back. "Wait. A full ride? Like...paying someone's full tuition? They do that here?"

"First time they've done it in a while," Chris answered. "You should know who got the last full scholarship."

Dan stared at Chris, his eyebrows knit together. Then it clicked. "My dad."

"Bingo." Chris gave Dan a sideways smirk. "Your dad, the legendary Richard Howell. I'm surprised they don't have a statue of him in the gardens somewhere."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, apparently he was a big deal."

"He's one of the most famous chefs in the world," Chris murmured, almost to himself. "He inherited the most well-known and richest bakery chain in the world. Of course he's a big deal."

"Just like my grandpa, and my grandpa's dad," Dan mumbled. "They were all chefs. Heading the _Howell's Delights_ bakery lineage."

"You must be pretty excited to inherit that. Though I can't say I'm jealous of the scrutiny you'll be under while you're here," Chris commented, elbowing Dan's side.

Dan's face turned sour. He'd forgotten how much not only his peers, but his teachers would be monitoring him.

"Although, with this new prodigy, maybe some of the attention will be off of you," Chris continued, looking thoughtful. "I'm kind of curious about the guy. He must be really good."

Dan frowned. "He probably just paid his way in and his cookies were good or something."

Chris lifted an eyebrow. "You know him?"

"No," Dan admitted. "But how good can he be?"

"What, afraid he'll outdo the _Howell's Delights_ heir?" Chris laughed. "I'll see what I can find out about him. I'll admit I want to know who he is."

The professor came in, and the class grew quiet as he set up his work and began the day's lecture. Dan found he couldn't focus-not that he was particularly interested anyway-because he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that someone in his year was so good, they matched with his father's level. The thought haunted him throughout the lesson on food labels.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Phil stared at himself in the mirror. The uniform he wore felt too heavy in his skin; he doubted he'd worn something this finely made in his life. How expensive was this uniform?

It at least looked good for a school uniform. Phil guessed the students would complain if they didn't. _Advantages of being rich, I guess,_ Phil thought. _The school caters to you._

His first class started in a few minutes, and he was currently in the bathroom next to the class. PJ had bid him farewell, as his first class had been The Hospitality Industry, and that found Phil headed to Developments in Nutrition by himself.

Taking a deep breath and running his hands through his hair one last time, Phil stepped out of the bathroom and entered the classroom. He had to physically restrain himself from gawking at the magnificence of a simple classroom. No dirty, gummy desks, no used chalkboard, no cracked floor tiles. The floor looked like it was made of marble and everything was state-of-the-art and the desks looked more like lounging tables, made of a sleek dark wood, freshly polished.

Phil sat uncertainly near the middle-front, in front of two brown-haired boys that were currently talking. Phil saw one boy elbow the other out of the corner of his eye as he sat down.

He got out his textbook and a notebook. He remembered this class was taught by someone called Professor Dawson.

As class started, he felt better. He wrote his notes and settled into something comfortingly familiar. He felt his excitement coming back as he began to learn the basics of healthy meals and food labels. He knew a lot of the material already, but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying the lesson.

After class, he met up with PJ in one of the dining halls to eat lunch. PJ greeted him with a smile. "Hey, Phil. How was class?"

"It went pretty well!" Phil replied, grinning. He was still in an excitable mood after the lesson, and he blurted: "The classroom was magnificent! I've never seen one like it!"

PJ's face turned downwards. "Really? They looked pretty normal to me."

Phil went red, and he tried to backtrack. "I mean-you know, I just wasn't expecting everything to be so...polished."

PJ tilted his head at Phil, scrutinizing him. Then, something seemed to click on in his head. "You've never been to a rich school before."

Biting his lip, Phil gave up. "No. I came from a working family. I'd never seen a school like this before."

His friend suddenly looked excited. "That means you've been to a regular school!"

Phil looked at him questioningly. "Well, yeah."

"What's it like?" PJ asked, his eyes gleaming. "Do you wear uniforms like these? What classes do you take? What do your classrooms look like?"

Phil couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out. "What's this? I was so afraid you'd call me a 'commoner' that I didn't tell you about it, and now you're really excited to find out?"

"I had my suspicions," PJ admitted. "You asked about things I couldn't believe you didn't know. You didn't have attendants when you arrived. You never wore expensive clothing."

"You didn't, either!"

"Just because I come from a rich family doesn't mean I always wear top-of-the-line clothing," PJ shrugged. "I like learning about commoners. I always thought they were smarter than people gave them credit for."

Phil made a face. "I don't like that word."

"Commoner? Why?"

"Snobby rich people use it to make us sound like lesser people," Phil mumbled. "I don't like it."

PJ nodded. "It's like calling us 'snobby rich people.'"

Phil flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," PJ interrupted, nodding. "I can't say I blame you. It's normal for us to call, um, other people 'commoners.' It must've driven you crazy. I'm sorry, I won't say it again."

"Thanks," Phil replied, feeling much better. "I'm sorry I ever called anyone here snobby. I guess it's a two-way street."

"Just because you're from a different family doesn't make you any less of a person than anyone here," PJ reminded him. "So don't let anyone treat you like it. Does anyone else know?"

"No, just you. I really wouldn't like anyone else to know."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Still, you must've come from a family with some money, since it's so expensive, unless…"

PJ suddenly looked thrilled. "Unless _you're_ the one that received that full scholarship?"

He blinked at PJ, unable to think why his friend would be so enthralled about this. "Yeah, I am. How did you know?"

"Phil, the _whole school_ heard about the guy that got the scholarship," PJ told him, his voice slightly higher pitched than normal. "Not only is it very rare to give out a full scholarship, but the last person at this school to get one was none other than Richard Howell himself."

"Howell? Yeah, the lady giving me the scholarship mentioned something like that. She called me a prodigy."

"You have no idea what a big deal this is, Phil! Richard Howell is one of the most, if not _the_ most, well-known bakers of all time! People are going to start categorizing your name with his! Not only is that a huge honor here, it means you have the same skill level as he did when he went here."

"I-I didn't know it was such a major deal," Phil stammered. He tried to process this information. Chef Howell was a celebrity bigger than anyone else in the culinary world. He knew that, of course. He'd loved _Howell's Delights_ and the food there ever since he was a kid.

"His bakery inspired me to become a chef," Phil admitted. "Though I've obviously never seen Chef Howell, his bakery made me want to open my own. That's why I enrolled here and worked so hard.

"I guess I never thought about what it meant to be categorized with him." Phil finished, wadding up his used napkin nervously.

"Everyone's been trying to discover the identity of the new prodigy," PJ informed him. "They want to meet this generation's Chef Howell. Although, apparently, Chef Howell's son enrolled here this year, so maybe some of the attention will be taken off of you. That guy has a lot to live up to."

Phil remembered the scholarship lady mentioning that, as well. "Yeah. Poor guy must really be feeling the pressure. At least no one knows I'm the guy with the scholarship."

"I won't tell anyone," PJ promised as the pair got up to put their dishes up. "I can see how your name being spread might be overwhelming for you."

Neither of the boys noticed a girl lowering a magazine from over her face, staring at Phil as they left.

"That's him, huh?" she murmured as the pair walked out of the dining hall. "The new prodigy. Looks like we're in for an interesting year."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 **Hey guys! I hope you liked it! Please excuse the repetitive information. It's used to set the tone, characters, and setting of the story. It's also to give us an idea of what Dan and Phil think of their classmates.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Bye now.**


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